


God Has Cursed Me, I Think

by Shalebridge_Cradle



Series: Bathed in Red [2]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/F, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 00:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13846068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shalebridge_Cradle/pseuds/Shalebridge_Cradle
Summary: Heather McNamara knows.





	God Has Cursed Me, I Think

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping this resolves a few of the various unsolved mysteries in Unholy.  
> Warnings: Violence, Body Horror, Mentions of Suicide.

Heather McNamara isn’t stupid.

She’s not smart like Duke or Veronica, she’ll pay that, but she’s not as blind as everyone seems to think she is. Sure, she didn’t know if they had Thanksgiving in Africa, or if Africa was a country or a continent, but she found out about Duke’s bad habit long before anyone else did.

She knows she’s the reason her mother drinks and her father worries. She also knows that no amount of money is going to fix her.

She knows there’s something wrong with Chandler. She sees it in the subtle shifts of her face, in the effort she puts into things that normally came naturally. When it’s obvious Chandler sees the girl in white that hangs around Martha Dumptruck, the one no-one else seems to see, that’s when it clicks.

Mac knows because she sees the same thing.

 

-

 

She’s very careful at the Remington party. Everyone is, for a variety of reasons. Mac is careful because Chandler will yell at her if she isn’t. She stays away from the boys that have the stinging smell of alcohol about them, because she won’t be able to work with the single-mindedness of a drunken frat boy. Not without getting in serious trouble.

She dances, of course – it’s still a party. Veronica pulls her over to ask her for help, and Mac wants to, so badly, if only the memories of last time Mac tried didn’t rise to the surface and remind her of why she shouldn’t.

Veronica doesn’t listen to her, or Duke. Not that Mac expects her to.

Nobody listens.

 

The smell of blood, coppery, overwhelming, hits her nostrils a short time later. It’s easy to recognize it over the stinging alcohol and heavy B.O. – it shouldn’t be.

She sees them, Chandler and Veronica, the girl in blue muttering something Mac can’t make out and their leader looking lost and afraid, hand hovering over her mouth. The smell is coming from them, Mac knows, because it eases when they vanish up the stairs.

Her head spins, and not just from drink.

Veronica comes back down sans Chandler, a fearsome determination on her face. It’s not as bad from her. That means the blood’s on Heather, something happened to Heather, is she okay is she safe who did this to her-

The revelry comes to a grinding halt at the sound of Veronica’s scream. That’s when Mac connects the dots.

 

-

 

She doesn’t say anything.

Even when Veronica comes to school on Monday with a bandage on her arm, when Duke shares her theory on Daniel’s – no, David’s death.  Mac stays silent to protect Chandler, like Chandler protects her.

Her first theory isn’t proven wrong, it’s simply ignored. Mac thinks she would work it out, if Chandler’s like her – maybe a similar smell, or something. That’s how it’s done normally, isn’t it? All she smells when she’s close enough to the Red Heather is perfume and death.

Death?

Ooh.

 _You know something is wrong, don’t you?_ A voice says from behind her, and it takes every effort not to turn and face the source, _She’s even more scared than you. Veronica’s helping her, for better or worse. Heather’s the one who did that to her wrist._

Mac growls under her breath. A warning.

 _I just wanted you to know the truth. She’s different from you, if you’re wondering. There’s no risk of… that, I don’t think._ A pause. _It’s this weekend, isn’t it?_

Mac nods stiffly. There’d be no further sleuthing. Not yet.

 

She always seeks comfort in Kurt’s arms on the days leading up to it. Kurt never understands why, but he doesn’t mind one bit.

 

-

 

It doesn’t hurt. Not much, anyway. So long as she doesn’t fight it.

It’s like a long stretch. Like, really long. Holding one stretch for ten minutes long, on every muscle at once. She feels everything shorten, lengthen, shift, prickling all over her skin, uncomfortable but not agonizing.

Once it’s all done, though…

It’s such a _rush_. She feels like she could run a hundred marathons, like she could punch her way through a brick wall, like she could **RUN AND CHASE AND CATCH AND KILL-**

But that’s not her. She’s Heather, and Heather has a history test she needs to study for tomorrow. Shut up, Not-Heather.

She curls up on her bed and does her best to sleep, locked in combat with the half of herself that wants to do anything but that.

 

-

 

Chandler gives everyone tasks to carry out. Mac doesn’t understand why, but she never does, so it’s not unusual. She does see the worry in Veronica’s eyes and the grim determination on Chandler’s face, sounding almost sad about sending Mac to scout out the local 7-Eleven. Then she leaves, Veronica trailing after her.

7-Eleven. Didn’t Veronica mention something about those recently…?

Her thoughts are interrupted by a hissing whisper from Duke.

“Haven’t they been acting weird lately?”

“I mean, yeah.”

Duke frowns before she continues, her voice eager, like she’s back in elementary school and giving the teacher the answer. “I think they might have done something at the Remington Party, you know, to David. It might have something to do with this.”

“How, though? It was an animal that killed David. Did they lure it out?”

“It wasn’t.”

Duke seems so certain about it that Mac faces her for the first time in their conversation. She gives a little frown, making sure that’s the only sign of the worry seizing at her chest.

“What do you mean?”

Duke takes a breath to speak, before stopping.

“Promise you won’t tell Heather.”

“Okay.” She’s not great at keeping secrets, but she’s better at keeping promises. It’s something about the wording she doesn’t really understand, but Duke knows this.

“I think… I think Heather killed him, and Veronica covered it up.” Then, it all starts flowing out of her mouth like a stream of water (or something else, but Mac doesn’t like thinking of the smell of stomach acid and despair), “Don’t tell either of them, they’ll kill me too if they figure it out, like they’re going to kill the weird kid that keeps trying to murder us with his eyes.”

Mac stopped. “Is this why we’re doing this?”

“I think so.”

“And you’re not going to tell anyone?”

“Are you?” Duke takes Mac’s silence as a ‘yes’, and gives a bark of fearful laughter. “Better him than us, right?”

Duke strides away, leaving Mac alone.

“She wouldn’t,” Mac mumbles to herself, “she wouldn’t hurt us. Not really. Not killing.”

She’s not deaf, Mac hears the cutting remarks Chandler directs at Duke. But Mac hurt people without meaning to. What’s stopping Chandler from doing the same?

More importantly, what’s stopping Chandler from _wanting_ to hurt?

 

-

 

She remembers them only vaguely. Some group wearing a uniform. Scouts, maybe, but older than the all-American ten-year-old she sees on TV. About four of them. Camping, probably.

They shouldn’t have run. That’s what set her off, she thinks. That need to chase took over, and she hunted them down like the rabbits they were as she fought desperately to take back control.

She couldn’t. She felt every tear of flesh, and the smell of fresh blood.

That _smell_.

She remembers when she saw the news report, a few years back. It was blamed on a bear attack, the carnage too much to be any other creature.

 _Not a bear_ , she thought to herself as she struggled to control her breathing. _A wolf._

Mac balls her fists at the memory. The girl in white said Chandler wasn’t like her, though.

So why is she seeing that same regret all the time?

 

-

 

Veronica’s former crush corners her in the halls between classes. Mac can’t remember his name, for the life of her.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced properly. Call me Jason Dean, JD for short. Don’t suppose you know what Veronica’s been up to lately?”

“No,” Mac replies. It’s the truth. She hopes Trenchcoat Boy sees that.

“It’s just been so long since we’ve talked. I don’t know what I did wrong, but it’s like she’s avoiding me.”

“She’s been spending time with Heather. Haven’t you noticed, stalker?”

James Dean (that’s what he said, right?) strokes his chin thoughtfully, but there’s an emptiness in his eyes that lets Mac know it’s an act.

“Veronica was complaining about the red one when I last saw her. Of course, I understand there was some sort of disagreement at the end of last month. When that was resolved, she stopped talking to me.” His gaze flicked up, ice-cold. “I wonder if there’s something else going on there.”

Mac has enough of this from Duke. How many other conspiracy theorists were coming too close to the truth for comfort?

“It’s none of my business if they bat for both teams, as it were,” he continues, and Mac can’t stop her eyes from widening, “though I’m sure it’s _yours_.”

With that, he walks away, leaving Mac stunned. Then a smile tugs at her lips.

She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she likes this theory better.

 

-

 

Math homework is not a swanky date. Certainly not good enough for either of them. James Dean had to be lying.

Still, when Mac mentions his name, red and blue freeze in fear.

Okay, so they _could_ be dating, but Mac’s original suspicions could _also_ be right and JD happens to know something (whether he realizes it or not).

No clear answer wither way. Great.

“Is there anything else?” Chandler asks, and Mac knows that’s her cue to leave.

At least she has a party to look forward to.

 

-

 

Mac would like to go back to how it was. Not without Veronica, or anything. She’d just like to go to a party where nothing bad happens.

It’s relatively minor, compared to the vicious murder at the last one. Tracey the drug dealer brings a Ouija board in honor of Halloween, and Duke’s face lights up in way Mac doesn’t like.

“I want to talk to someone.”

“Who?” Mac asks. “David? You gonna ask who killed him, and stuff?”

“I don’t wanna get hit on by a greaseball from beyond the grave. No. I want to talk to Betty Finn.”

Mac frowns in confusion, and Duke sighs.

“Cardigan? Glasses? Hung out with Dumptruck and Veronica back in middle school?”

It hits her like a truck.

“So _that’s_ her name.”

Duke frowns, but follows Tracey outside, and then Mac remembers that bothering a ghost (especially one as blunt as Betty) is probably a bad idea. But it’s not like Duke would listen to her suggestion anyway.

She tells Veronica instead. Sure, the girl looks even more skittish and panicky than she was when Chandler first inducted her into their clique, but Duke said she used to be friends with… Betty. She has a right to know.

Betty and Veronica. Like in the comics. That’s a good way to remember it, Mac supposes.

When she mentions the name, any panic on Veronica’s face melts away into pure, unfettered anger.

“ _Where is she?_ ”

Mac is taken aback by how much she looks like Chandler in that moment, so much so that she reverts to how she acts with the girl in red – by giving her whatever she asks for.

“On the patio,” she replies, whimpering when she realizes that this will not end well for Heather Duke.

 

It _doesn’t_ end well for Duke. Not in the way Mac expected.

Chandler stops Veronica before she can interrupt the summoning (and Mac knows it’s worked, because she can see blurry white through the glass door). They have a short conversation, Veronica spending most of it looking at the floor, then Chandler gets that look on her face. The one she gets when she’s going to prank someone, only this time it’s a thousand times worse. Chandler grabs Veronica’s hands and says something, and they separate. Veronica goes to get another drink, and Chandler disappears into the crowd.

Duke comes up to her later, asking where Heather is. Mac answers truthfully – she doesn’t know, but Veronica might. Again, she only figures out it’s a bad idea after it’s done. Not immediately afterwards, though. Only when Duke stumbles down the stairs, eyes feverish, does Mac worry.

She moves to help Duke, to keep everyone else away, but the smell of blood makes her balk again.

“Here,” Duke says to her, stilted, “here… her? Vampire?”

Then she staggers away. Kurt and Ram follow her, and the gripping cold in Mac’s chest eases a little.

Kurt will take care of her. She’ll be safe.

 

-

 

Duke is safe. Kurt and Ram are not.

The Heathers all hear the news at the same time, as far as Mac can tell.

“Did you hear?” A junior tells them, “Kurt and Ram tried to kill themselves in a repressed homosexual suicide pact.”

There’s a few seconds of silence.

“…What?” is Duke’s only response.

“When you say ‘tried’…” Veronica starts.

“They can’t find the bodies. There’s a note, and gay porn, and even _mineral water_ where Ram’s car was found, but they can’t find them.”

There’s another long stretch of shocked silence, and the girl wanders off.

That’s not right, Heather thinks. Kurt is straight. Definitely straight. Something happened to them, someone must have placed those things there. Where are they?

She doesn’t miss Veronica and Chandler sharing a worried look.

Vampire, Duke had said. And Duke was way smarter than Mac.

This wouldn’t go unanswered. Not with Kurt.

 

-

 

It’s hard to get Heather Chandler alone. Partly because everything’s falling apart without the football players to act as protection, partly because Chandler’s assigned Mac to look after Veronica when she’s not around.

She sees Dean lurking around them, patiently waiting for her to slip up. He seems like he’s even more of a predator than wither Mac or Chandler, and that’s terrifying. Mac glares right back and hopes that’s enough to stop him from getting any closer.

Her thoughts wander, though. Mac rehearses in her head how exactly she’s going to confront Chandler. She doesn’t want to, but her desire for the truth is finally overwhelming her fear.

She hopes beyond hope that Chandler’s answer to her question will be ‘no, I didn’t kill Ram and Kurt’. She’s weakened without them, Mac knows, she has no reason to, but there’s still the possibility…

She remembers the four again. She remembers how she screamed at herself to stop, stop, stop, but she was powerless.

Mac doesn’t know what she’s going to do if the answer is yes.

Martha Dunnstock (that's her real name, isn't it?) strides up to them with a confidence Mac didn’t know she has, and gives her a way out.

 

-

 

Veronica tries to stop them from investigating. Mac doesn’t know if it’s because she’s worried for their safety or because she’s hiding something. Betty is here, too, frowning at Mac while phasing her hand through the windows of Ram’s pickup and undoing the locks on the door.

Once Mac sees the trail of black spots on the ground, she decides to test her theory and do a little detective work at the same time.

She hears Veronica call out to her.

It’s her turn not to listen.

 

It doesn’t really smell like oil. Sure looks like it, though, she thinks as she wanders further into the woods. It’s sort of musky, putrid, like a corpse. This is different.

And it’s getting stronger.

In a clearing, she finds a slab of stone covered with the stuff.

A memory rises to the surface at the sight – she’s seen this before. Duke had showed it to her, back in middle school, before Chandler arrived and insulted that occult stuff out of her.

“I can only find evidence of one witch trial in Ohio,” Duke had said to her, “They weighed a woman against a huge bible, and if she was lighter than the word of God, then she had to be a witch.”

“And?” Mac had asked, a captive audience.

“She was heavier than the bible. So, the puritans were all like ‘shit, she can’t be a witch, then. Let her go.’ Well, looks like they were wrong.”

She thinks on it for a moment, but the black doesn’t end there.

She presses on.

 

Finally, after however long she’d been walking, Mac makes progress. She can make out a figure in a letterman, Kurt’s letterman. He’s got his back to her, looking up at the segments of night sky visible through the gaps in the trees.

Kurt’s here. Her boyfriend is here, and safe. A weight on her chest she’d barely noticed lifts, and Mac sighs in relief.

“Kurt?” he stops. “Kurt, it’s me. Everyone’s worried about you, we’ll explain the note wasn’t real. Kurt…?”

He turns. A string of black drips from his chin, and he looks at her with lifeless eyes.

Mac can’t move. Even as Kurt lurches towards her, she can’t make her legs work. Her brain is too busy going a million miles an hour, trying to make sense of what’s in front of her, trying to convince herself this isn’t Kurt this isn’t Kurt what happened to the real one this isn’t him-

One half of her gives up. Accepts her fate.

The other half takes over, and she bolts.

 

After a quick stop at the Witch Stone to pick up a bewildered Veronica ( **THE BLUE ONE IS FRIEND SEE I REMEMBER** ), she runs full pelt back to Ram’s car. Martha ( **BIG FRIEND** ) has locked herself inside, hoping the car windows are enough to stop the harsh words of Duke and Chandler.

 **FRIENDS?** Not-Heather asks. Mac doesn’t know anymore.

She bangs on the window, begging for Martha to get her out of here, away from what she’s found. What she’s afraid of finding.

Everyone is shoved inside as Kurt comes into view. At the same time, Betty leans through the passenger-side window, making eye contact.

_ This isn’t for you. _

The car roars to life, and with Martha’s help, they all speed away from the truth.

 

-

 

They all agree that it didn’t happen. They’ll pretend they saw nothing, they’ll go back to pretending there’s still hope.

What the others don’t realize is that they have given Mac hope. Chandler and Veronica were both shocked at the sight of Kurt’s still-moving corpse running towards them. They all knew nothing, which means none of them killed him. This means Mac can trust them.

Right?

 

-

 

It’s that time of the month again. Mac hates calling it that, but it’s the best phrase for it she has.

Just as she’s about to fall into a troubled sleep, the bedroom door slams open. All the hard work put into soothing the savage beast is wasted as a pang of adrenaline shoots through her at the sight of her new guest.

Martha.

Martha?

“I let myself in. Sorry.” That regret disappears quickly. “Betty told me about you, and I wanted to see if I could help.”

Mac would tell her how much she sounds like Veronica, if she could speak. Instead, she whimpers, barely audible, at being discovered.

“No, no, no, don’t be sad! This is… well, it’s not fine, but it’s okay! You look my old dog Binky!” Martha takes one step forward. Mac tries to warn her away with a growl, but it’s marred by a frightened whine.

She doesn’t want Martha to end up like the others. Martha is nice. Painfully out of fashion, but too damn kind for her own good. And yet, here she is, _knowing_ Mac is dangerous, and still walking towards her with too-clear understanding in her eyes. She doesn’t get it, she can’t get it, but she’s still _trying_ to.

“Heather,” Martha’s voice, so soft and gentle, “Heather, remember. You’re Heather. Nothing else.”

Martha reaches out a hand.                                                                                                            

 

-

 

**CHASE RUN CHASE RUN FIND IT CATCH IT CATCH IT CATCH IT**

**CAUGHT.**

**CHEW. NOT HARD. DON’T BITE THROUGH. BRING BACK. BACK.**

**GOOD. GET SCRATCH. GOOD.**

**GIVE STICK TO FRIEND.**

**THROW AGAIN.**

 

-

 

It’s good to have someone to talk to.

Mac’s parents love her, of course, but she gets why any attempts to talk about her… condition… are shot down. It’s probably more painful for them than it is for her.

That’s why she likes Martha. She’s so low on the totem pole of popularity that she’s practically underground, so there’s no threat to her or the other Heathers when Mac confesses her many sins. There’s no real catch, either, like she’d expect from the other Heathers. Martha asks her to watch _The Princess Bride_ with her (“only if you’re not too busy”), and Mac agrees. There’s no judgement, no worry.

It’s good to have someone to talk to.

Especially when Chandler dies.

 

-

 

Veronica has become like a doll. One of the old, creepy ones Mac’s grandmother collects. Blank-faced, hollow-eyed, to be handled with care.

Martha is worried, of course. Mac knows she doesn’t grieve for Chandler – after what that girl had put her through, Mac can’t bring herself to blame her – but she grieves for her absence, and what it’s done to those close to her.

Chandler is gone. Duke is gone. This means Mac should take charge, as the last remaining Heather. She should be whipping everyone into shape, taking their mind off of death and violence and fear with gossip and glamor. Rip away the coming end, focus on the now.

But she was always the weakest, personality-wise. The one who was capable, but unwilling. So, she lets everyone mill about like spooked cattle, and focuses on protecting the handful of friends she has left.

 

-

 

Courtney returns to school, seemingly unharmed from her brush with death. A little more skittish, sure, paying more mind to sudden sharp noises or things in the corner of the vision. Like a deer – nervous, but rightly so.

Then Courtney comes up to talk to her one day, without her trust funded clique there to back her up.

“ _Someone wants to speak with you this afternoon,_ ” she says.

Mac gives her a look. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

She doesn’t trust her. Why should she? Courtney was the one who found that fake fragment of diary, Courtney was the one that showed it to the school, who brought Mac’s world crashing down around her ears in her attempt to be the moral better. Her mugging had only served to further her social status, everyone acting like she didn’t get what she deserved.

Courtney looks at the ground. “ _It’s not something I can easily explain. For one, it’s_ me _who wants to talk to you, but I’m not the one who’s speaking._ ”

Mac tries to make sense of that sentence, and gets nowhere.

“ _Put it this way,_ ” Courtney continues, “ _I used to send you to get Veronica, or Heather, or to let everyone who deserves to know that the party’s on. You know? It’s like that, but I’m using this bitch to tell you. It’s just a little more literal now._ ”

That sends a spark through Mac’s brain. Courtney didn’t swear. Mac didn’t swear either, but that was more out of politeness than righteousness. Courtney couldn’t even use the word ‘damn’, let alone refer to someone else (herself?) as a bitch.

She’s speaking for someone else. Someone is speaking through her.

“ _Do you get it now?_ ”

Mac nods slowly. “Maybe. Where do you want me to meet you? When?”

“ _5:30. Near Mercer. Oh, and Courtney?_ ” the young Republicanette gets this sneer on her face that Mac’s seen before, just not on her, “ _Don’t forget I saved your life. This isn’t your place, and it never will be. If you even_ think _of following her, I’ll take back what I’ve given you._ ”

Her head dips a little, like she’s trying not to fall asleep in a boring class, and then she looks at Mac like she’s seen the devil and sprints away.

Now that she thinks about it, Courtney’s eyes were a slightly different color than normal, when she was talking. Not that bright, baby blue they are now.

They were darker. They were grey.

 

-

 

Mac does as she’s told.

Martha’s walking Veronica home from school today (Mac quietly worries Veronica would just sit on the stairs outside Westerburg if she didn’t have someone to help her), so she’s free to meet with Courtney’s Master of Puppets. A flash of movement behind a house, and Mac quickly checks there’s no-one following her before she goes to investigate.

The phantom who greets her…

Grey fabric, black leather, washed out, a scarf hiding a ruined throat. Veronica’s scarf, from the day they first met.

“You kept it,” Mac breathes.

Her dead best friend smiles ruefully back at her.

 

-

 

Chandler explains some things through a rough, ragged voice. Mac tries to listen, she does, but she can’t get over how Chandler sounds, how she smells – like dried blood and dead leaves, organic odors that are too far away from the girl who took her to the mall or laughed with her at lunch or kept her safe from the barbed tongues of the other girls for Mac to really process she’s talking to the same person.

She tells Mac that she was the one who killed David, in a moment of aching hunger. That Veronica, for her own (unknown) reasons, helped her cover it up and kill again. That neither of them had anything to do with Ram and Kurt, and that Jason Dean had killed her not once, but twice.

“Now that I think about it, I suppose I killed myself that first time,” Chandler muses through the gravel in her throat. “He thinks Veronica needs saving, you know. That he’s a white knight rescuing a princess from the highest tower in the land. He’s nothing but a deluded little psychopath. A murderer.”

“So are you. So am I,” Mac responds, and before Chandler can recover from her surprise, “what did you do to Courtney?”

Chandler pauses, averting her gaze. “Let me tell you, dying works up a killer thirst. The school shooter and his getaway girl weren’t around, so I picked the next best target. Well, I took too much, and Veronica would have killed me again if I came back with another body on my hands, so I tried to give some back.”

Blood loss, the rumormongers had said. Vampire, Duke had said.

“…Yeah, I still don’t get it,” Mac admits.

“Tough shit. I dunno how it works, only…” Chandler’s scowl turns into a thoughtful frown. “I put a piece of myself into her, I think. I guess it’s like a TV. You can just watch whatever’s on, or you grab the remote and take control.”

Now _that’s_ something Mac understands.

“One last thing, Heather.”

Mac waits for her orders. Chandler fidgets.

The voice is so sad and quiet Mac can barely make out the words through the cracking and grating. “Please take care of Veronica for me. I’ll leave soon enough – once I find Bonnie and Clyde, I’ll be out of everyone’s hair.”

Mac’s final question is answered.

 

-

 

She brings Chandler things in the next few days. Bedsheets, pillows, cushions, despite Chandler’s insistence that she doesn’t need them. It makes the nasty old shack she’s living in (and ‘living’ is a strong word) slightly less awful.

Really, Mac’s hoping the offerings she’s making will convince Chandler to stay.

 

-

 

The Pep Rally arrives, and Mac is making sure no-one in her squad slips. The people need this, they need something to feel other than fear. Let it be blind rage at the Stinson High football team’s existence. Let it be hope that something good will finally happen in this shitty little school.

Two things cause her to lose her concentration. The first is the sight of Veronica with fire in her eyes, but the distraction doesn’t last long. It brightens Mac’s day for a moment – she’s finally getting back to her old self.

The second is a pop some five or ten minutes later, like a firework, from below.

She sees a few familiar faces in the crowd. Martha is looking intently under bleachers like her life depends on it. Betty has her eyes on Mac’s, like she’s trying to communicate with her mind and failing (even though Mac’s pretty sure she knows how to do that).

Something’s wrong.

At the second pop (a gunshot, she realizes in a rush of clarity), she breaks away.

 

-

 

**BLOOD TOO MUCH BLOOD. NOT GOOD. VERY BAD. BLUE FRIEND ISN’T WELL.**

**BAD MAN CRIES.**

**BAD MAN. TEAR AWAY AT BAD MAN BITE THROUGH BREAK HIS BONES CRUSH HIS SKULL _BREAK HIM BREAK HIM BREAK HIM_ –**

_The bomb,_ Betty reminds her.

**BOMB?**

**OH.** Oh, no.

Mac takes back control, grabs the little device attached to the boiler, and runs.

 

-

 

Mac throws the bomb as far as she can, onto the far edge of the empty football field. It bounces about a foot off the ground before it comes to a stop. Mac is pretty sure it shouldn’t do that without blowing up, but what does she know about explosives?

The most important thing is it can’t hurt anyone all the way out here. The Pep Rally has at least another half-hour to go, and she’s certain the timer was only a few minutes at most.

She turns back around, her job done, and is greeted by Martha. Mac smiles, and leans in to hold her-

“Wait.”

Martha quickly takes off her beloved pink unicorn sweater (covered in red and the stinging stench of Veronica’s blood) and presents it to Mac.

“Is this a gift?” Mac questions, “It’s just, I know you like it, but it’s not really my thing.”

“You need it.” Martha sounds like she’s about to cry. Mac tilts her head in confusion, and her kinda-girlfriend gives a quick nod down at her uniform.

One, two, three, four bullet wounds. One in her shoulder, two in her stomach, one deep graze in her side. Mac had barely noticed the dull ache over all the adrenaline.

If they were silver, she wouldn’t be standing. She’s so glad that Jason Dean thought she was nothing more than a empty-headed cheerleader.

She gently puts on the sweater and takes Martha’s hand.

“Where’s Veronica?”

 

-

 

Chandler’s looking after her, as it happens. Holding a hand up to Veronica’s face, she shoves it into her pocket as Mac and Martha approach. The tang of blood in Mac’s nose gets worse, and Veronica’s lips are a darker shade of red than they were before.

She sets her jaw, but Veronica’s irregular breathing evens out. Mac says nothing to Martha about what Chandler’s done. Her heart might not be able to take it.

“You’ve called the ambulance?” Chandler snaps. Her voice sounds a lot better now, but it’s still a little rough, a little… wild.

“Martha’s not an idiot,” Mac replies, “of course she did. And the police, too.”

“Fine. Good.” Chandler looks Mac up and down, and side-eyes Martha. “Really?”

“She’s taken four bullets. It’s not good under there.”

“Well, that’s four more than me.”

The sounds of footsteps from around the corner, and Chandler gives one last look as she takes off in the opposite direction.

Ms. Fleming’s strangled noises of shock can be heard over the concerned murmurs of the small crowd.

Alison, vice-captain of the cheer squad, speaks first.

“What the fuck?!”

Martha points at her. “Good question!”

“Ms. Fleming,” Mac starts, “I know students aren’t allowed in the boiler room, but Jason Dean should still be down there. Can you go get him? Oh, and nobody go on the football field, that’s where I put his bomb so nobody dies.”

There’s an almighty panic as the teachers try to stop the crowd from rushing outside.

 

-

 

She visits Duke first. Veronica’s not awake yet, and Jason Dean can fuck off and die.

She just sits as Duke stares blankly ahead. Mac doesn’t want to push. She does blame Duke for what happened, but that doesn’t mean she hates her. She was brave enough to try and do the right thing, even if it didn’t work out. Martha tries to help, reminding Duke of happier times, but apart from Mr. and Mrs. Duke, Mac is the only other regular visitor.

The long hours of silence do come to an end, though. Mac’s patience is rewarded with short, cryptic sentences.

“I tried to fix it. I tried to bring them back.”

“I meant for JD to die. He was going to be the blood price for their lives.”

“I thought if I died too, that would be enough to fix them.”

“I didn’t mean for them to try it. I stopped fighting when I realized.”

“I don’t deserve to live.”

That last one spurs Mac to say something.

“I tried to kill myself once, you know.”

The only sign that Duke registered what Mac said is when her eyes widen.

“Downed a whole bottle of sleeping pills. Didn’t work, obviously. Um. But, if it had, then I think everything would have been a lot worse for everyone else. I didn’t try again. Uh, so, like, what I’m trying to say is that you can’t change the mistakes you’ve made, but you can try and make up for them, and stuff.”

“It’s a huge series of mistakes, though.”

“So, you make an effort. Me and Martha will help. Are the police charging you?”

“Lenience,” Duke spits out, “A fine, and a charge, but no time. Just a permanent, bloody smear on my reputation.”

“...You didn’t know. You didn’t go. You couldn’t have stopped him.”

“I should have.”

 

-

 

Betty visits one last time at about 3AM. Mac sleeps much lighter than Martha does, and she doesn’t want to wake her girlfriend for something that’s no doubt going to be sad.

 _Veronica’s fine,_ she tells Mac, _I put her to sleep for now. You can visit her tomorrow._

“Good,” Mac whispers. Betty opens and closes her mouth, like she can’t find the right words for what she wants to say.

_ Sorry. _

“For what? You’ve done everything right.”

 _And what has that gotten me?_ Betty replies miserably.

“…Well, Veronica’s safe. Martha’s happy, I think, and all three of us Heathers are going to be better from now on. That’s something, isn’t it?”

_ I suppose. But… Maybe if I hadn’t taken that street. If I didn’t step off the curb. _

“But you did. You can’t go back. I’m sorry it happened, but there’s nothing you can do about the ‘what-ifs’ now.”

_ …You’re smarter than everyone thinks, Heather.  _

“Thanks, I guess.”

_ Give Martha as many hugs as you can for me. _

And she’s gone.

Mac’s going to miss a person she never really knew.

 

-

 

It gets better.

The criminal has been brought to justice. Veronica takes over the ruling duties from Chandler, though her sort-of-dead girlfriend steps in via proxy from time to time. Duke sits with Martha, like in the old days, and with Mac, like she did a few months ago. Martha’s pink (now red) sweater is given a solemn send-off, and Mac gets permission to dress her favorite person up. It’s amazing what a bit of makeup and some well-chosen clothes can do for a girl’s popularity. And saving hundreds of ungrateful lives, that helps, too.

More importantly, Not-Heather learns. It learns, it grows more human, and it slowly fades away.

There’s nowhere for Heather to go but up.


End file.
